


Family, Always

by buckysbears (DrZebra)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Babies, Gen, References to 5x14, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 07:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14327565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrZebra/pseuds/buckysbears
Summary: Daisy can't help it, she's still nervous around him.But she's not going to let it ruin this day.





	Family, Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agentcalliope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentcalliope/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY CASEY <3 <3 ILY

She really doesn’t like hospitals.

It’s not that there’s anything inherently wrong with them. But they’re so bright, and they smell too clean, and everything’s buzzing, all the time. All the people, the rooms and rooms full of machines, buzzing, all the time buzzing, and it drives her a little too close to the edge.

And maybe she doesn’t have the best associations with them. She’s never been in a hospital for any good reason. It’s always a broken bone, or a laceration that won’t stop bleeding. An earache that won’t go away. As a kid, hospitals were always her most dreaded place. A trip to the hospital usually meant a trip back to the orphanage soon after. So, she has an undercurrent of fear whenever she’s in one.

But she’s not going to let that ruin this day.

She slips into the room even though the nurse had told her not to go in. Her sneaky spy skills have got to be good for something, right? She stops and swallows as the door whispers shut behind her. Her nerves have made her thirsty—but her root beer did nothing but caramelize in her mouth. Her tongue feels sticky. Still, she smiles. Because right now none of that matters.

He looks up when the door clicks shut, and smiles back at her.

And the lights in the room are too bright, too noisy. And the machines are beeping loud enough to hurt. And there’s a sting of lemon cleaner in her nose.

But, god. _God_.

She’s had tunnel vision before, but never for something this magnificent.

She swallows down a lump in her throat, and a little laugh escapes in its stead. She has to blink a few times to bring her vision back. She washed off her makeup hours ago—she doesn’t worry about smudging her mascara when she wipes her eyes.

“What’s her name?” she manages.

Fitz’s eyes draw back down to the baby like he’s got a new center of gravity. “Maisie,” he breathes.

Her lip dimples as she holds in tears. She’s never been a ‘weepy around babies’ person, but this is different. This is _them_.

“That’s a good one.”

He nods, distracted, like he only half heard her.

She knows she doesn’t need permission to enter this room, but she slips only a few inches further from the door. There’s that underlying nervousness—about hospitals, yes, about this whole situation. But maybe, these last few months, also about _him_. She hates it. Not him. Not anymore. But she can’t help how she feels.

He adjusts the blanket around the still-pink baby girl, strokes a finger down her cheek, and he looks so goddamn _gentle_ that it almost breaks her.

She doesn’t mean for the sigh to escape, but it does.

He looks back up. “Do you want to come say hello?”

Daisy blinks hard again, pinches her lips between her teeth, and nods. She glances over to Jemma, sound asleep in the other bed, exhausted after almost a full day of labor, and inches closer to them. Fitz scoots over, and she settles just far enough that they’re not touching.

She looks at the baby, really looks for the first time, and, okay, so. She’s always found newborns to be a little weird looking. Not ugly, but just a little alien (she knows she’s a little alien too but—whatever). But Maisie is different. Somehow. She still has that newborn look to her, all pinkened and puffy. But she’s beautiful. She looks like them. Daisy isn’t sure where exactly, but she does.

She wipes away another tear that’s threatened to fall.

“Do you want to hold her?”

She nods, and carefully takes the bundle of blankets from his arms. The brush of their hands almost makes her shiver, but she holds it in.

The baby is light, almost weightless, but also heavier than anything she’s ever carried.

“Tiny little thing, aren’t you?” Daisy says, quiet.

“Little too excited to come out,” Fitz chuckles. “Has her own timetable about things, it seems.”

“Takes after her mom.”

Fitz smiles. “Yeah.”

Daisy settles back against the pillows. The baby lets out a little snuffle, and Daisy feels both of their hearts clench. She smells new and fresh. That baby smell that no one can ever get enough of. Daisy can see the appeal.

After a little while, Fitz clears his throat. Daisy tries not to stiffen.

“I’m just, um—” His fingers scratch along the fabric of his pants. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Her teeth clench over the side of her tongue. “Where else would I be?”

He nods, and keeps nodding, but doesn’t say anything.

She focuses back on the baby, but she’s tense.

“Fitz—”

He looks at her. Not directly, head still aimed at the baby. His new daughter. But his eyes find the side of her face.

Daisy swallows.

“I know things aren’t always easy.” Her throat tries to tighten around the words. She wishes he weren’t looking at her. She wishes he weren’t so close. “Things aren’t always easy and we- we do things that hurt each other. Both of us. Things we can forgive and things we can’t.”

He looks away, and it feels like she can breathe again. She wishes it didn’t. She wants it to hurt, like it’s obviously hurting him. But she needs to say this.

“And there are going to be times when we’re hurt and times when we’re mad and times when we can’t stand the sight of each other. But I want to say- I- I need you to know …”

There’s a burning behind her eyes, and behind her nose. She sniffles, and extracts one hand so she can wipe at her face.

“Fitz, I need you to know that, no matter what, we’re always going to be family. Okay? Our ‘thick and thin’ looks a lot different from other people’s, but that- that’s never going to change.”

She finally finds the courage to look up at him when his breath comes in audibly shaking, and he’s nodding, quick little nods as he brings up a hand to wipe his wet cheeks.

She looks back down to Maisie, to give him a moment of privacy.

She can hear him swallow a few times. “I …”

Her finger shuffles the blanket out of the baby’s face.

“I want you to know that- um—” His throat clears quietly. “That _this_ —” He motions to the baby, looks over at Jemma sleeping in the other bed. “This includes you. Always. You know, you’re- You’re my family, too. And Jemma’s. And Maisie’s, now. And I- I don’t want to ever compromise that.”

Daisy’s face twists as she holds back further tears. She lets out a little laugh. “Maybe we can make a deal to stop hurting each other for a little while.”

Fitz’s breath huffs out his nose. “That’s agreeable.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” she says.

“I don’t want to be lost.”

He twists his arm so his palm is raised, and after no moment of hesitation Daisy takes his hand, pulling him over so they’re supporting the weight of the infant together. His skin burns beneath hers, but she has no thoughts of letting go.

 

(This is what it feels like to breathe.)


End file.
